


The Informant

by tsuki_llama



Series: The Office [1]
Category: Darker Than Black
Genre: Canon Divergent, Office AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2018-12-07 12:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11623335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuki_llama/pseuds/tsuki_llama
Summary: An alternate path in which Hei's team discovers something about the Syndicate's plans sooner, and decide to ask for help.





	1. The Informant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a multi-chapter prequel to the Office AU series, rather than a complete standalone story in its own right - like the other parts of the series, the chapters will be loosely connected and more episodic in nature, because I'm mostly writing them just for funsies. Their purpose is more to give a brief overview of how Hei and Misaki started working together, how she planted the idea of his coming to work for Section Four, and the lead up to the Tokyo Explosion. 
> 
> The series proper starts with "The Interview", one year later.

Hei tensed at the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching the doorway where he stood and pressed himself further back into the shadows. He made no move to intercept the runner; his role tonight was merely to provide a distraction. The Syndicate wanted this target alive and out of the hands of the police.

Section Four had gotten close, too close to the target on more than one occasion. Hei had no idea what would happen if the man was caught by either party, but the higher-ups were clearly nervous about the possibility. There was a lot that he didn’t know about the higher-ups and the games they played with their assets’ lives. He’d never cared to know; but things were different now. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder.

The target’s footsteps pounded past his hiding place; the man didn’t so much as turn his head in Hei’s direction as he flew past and down towards the busy street at the end of the alleyway.

Lucky. Hei was wearing his Li costume tonight, and even though he’d swapped his usual white shirt for a forest green button-down, it was no replacement for black. The target would have easily spotted him if he’d been paying attention.

The man’s footsteps had just faded into general noise of Shinjuku’s nightlife when another set of running steps alerted Hei to the presence of the chaser, fast approaching. He couldn’t see around the edge of the doorway, but the racing footsteps were loud and clear.

Still tensed, Hei took a deep breath. The timing had to be just right.

The chaser rapidly drew abreast of his doorway. It was now or never.

He let out the breath that he’d been holding and stepped out into the middle of the alley.

Kirihara Misaki hit his shoulder at full force. Prepared for the blow, Hei didn’t even stagger; Kirihara, on the other hand, fell backwards, her eyes wide with surprise.

Reflexively, Hei reached out and caught her upper arm before she could topple over. She let out a startled _Oh!_ as he pulled her back onto her feet and into his chest. The hilt of her gun was obvious where pressed into his shoulder.

“Oh, Chief Kirihara!” Hei exclaimed in his best Li voice. “Um.” He looked down at his grip on her arm and let go, jumping back several inches in awkward embarrassment. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean - I didn’t see you!”

The police chief blinked. “Li? What - don’t worry about it. Did you see a man run through here just now?” She craned her neck to look past his shoulder; Hei shifted his weight innocently, blocking her view.

“A man? No, I didn’t see anyone. Besides you, I mean -”

“Never mind. I’ve got to run - you should be more careful, it’s not safe to wander around dark alleys this late at night.”

“Oh right, sorry…” Hei trailed off as Kirihara politely but hurriedly pushed past him and started off down the long alleyway. She’d taken only a few steps before she glanced back over her shoulder at him, frowning. Then with a slight shake of her head, she took off after the target once again.

Hei watched her go with narrowed eyes, his heart pounding. The delay had been less than a minute, but that should have been plenty of time for Huang to grab the asset, get him loaded into the car, and disappear into the busy traffic before Kirihara caught so much as a glimpse.

However, the success of the mission was the last thing on his mind right now.

“Well?” a familiar voice asked from the shadows.

“It's done,” he said flatly.

The bell on Mao's collar jingled as leapt onto a nearby dumpster and scratched his ear nervously. “I hope you know what you're doing - we're putting an awful lot of trust into your judgment here, Hei.”

Hei continued staring down the alley mouth. Kirihara disappeared around the corner, ponytail streaming out behind her. “I _don't_ trust my judgment,” he admitted. “But I do trust _her_.”

And in a few hours, he'd know whether this risk had even the smallest chance of paying off - or if he'd just made the worst mistake of his life.

~~~~o~~~~

 

“Damn, damn, damn,” Misaki muttered to herself. She kicked the tire on her Porsche once to drive the point home. “ _Damn_.”

The buzzing of her phone interrupted another string of curses. Misaki pulled it out of her jacket pocket and leaned against the car. “Anything?”

“Negative,” Saitou answered. “Disappeared right out from under us.”

She sighed. “I had him in sight before he turned up a blind alley. But it was dark, and I ran into someone; I lost him.”

“Shit. Maybe we’ll get another chance?”

Misaki appreciated the optimism in her subordinate’s voice, even if she didn’t believe it. “Maybe,” she said. “Let’s reconvene at headquarters for a debrief.” Without waiting for a reply, she snapped the phone shut and gazed moodily down at the pavement in front of her.

She’d been so close to catching EG-388! He’d been right in front of her, not twenty yards away before disappearing; that alleyway was the _only_ place he could have gone, but Li had said that he hadn’t seen anyone. Unless he’d ducked through a door and into the back of a shop? But if he’d done that, Li still should have seen him.

Li. She might have actually nabbed the contractor if she hadn’t run into Li and wasted those valuable seconds. Misaki hated to curse at someone as sweet as him, but…damn it! His timing couldn’t have been more terrible if he’d tried.

That unexpected thought froze her foot halfway to her tire. No…that was ridiculous. It was a coincidence, that was all. Why would Li be working with a contractor?

The cop side of her brain asked, _Why would Li be lurking in a dark alleyway and lie about seeing anyone else there?_

She shook her head. A couple of coincidences were _not_ evidence of any sort of wrongdoing. There was no reason for him to _not_ be in that alley, really. Maybe he’d just been taking a shortcut. Tracking down EG-388 was what was important now.

It wasn't until she reached into her pants pocket for her car keys that she found the note.

~~~~o~~~~

 

_The police have been compromised. I can help._

The words danced in her head the entire drive back to the office, burned themselves into the back of her eyeballs. Who had sent that note, and what did it mean? Compromised by _who_? If it was a joke, it was a poor one.

The handwriting on the scrap of paper was barely legible; she didn't recognize it. There was no way of telling who had slipped it into her pocket, or when. It could have happened at any time throughout the long day.

Although really, there was only one logical explanation. It was just the one that made the least sense, and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach every time she thought about it.

She'd run the several blocks back to that alleyway after discovering the message; but it was empty except for a black cat skulking in the shadows, only visible by the distant street lights reflected in its eyes. Li had vanished as thoroughly as EG-388.

Had someone asked him to slip the note to her, put him up to it? She'd never felt a thing; that, coupled with the perfect timing with which he'd stepped out of the shadows...she shivered in spite of herself. In retrospect, that had been no amateur move - if it had indeed been him.

There were no details about a meeting, not even after she’d scoured both sides of the scrap, and she spent the entire debrief so distracted by the message that even her team noticed, exchanging worries glances with each other. But until she knew what it meant, she didn’t dare mention it.

Misaki didn't arrive home until after one in the morning. With a tired sigh, she unlocked her apartment and kicked off her shoes into the tray by the door as she flipped on the light. - and saw a pair of worn, shabby sneakers already there.

For a brief, stupid moment she thought that she must be in the wrong apartment. Then she looked up.

Li was sitting on her sofa, wearing a dark green shirt and jeans, his expression dark and unreadable. His posture was casual - leaning forward, arms resting on his knees - but it was obvious that he'd been waiting for her.

Misaki stood frozen for a long moment, heart pounding in sudden fear as she tried to make sense of his presence. How he’d gotten in and how he even knew where she lived was hardly relevant at the moment. Her hand was still on the door handle; her phone was in her pocket, her gun strapped to her chest. Whatever was going on, she had the upper hand.

With that bit of knowledge to bolster her confidence, she asked levelly, “What are you doing here?”

“You know who I am.”

It wasn't a question. His voice was cold and flat, nothing like what she'd heard from him before; and as soon as he said the words, all those coincidences became clear and she knew.

“BK-201.”

He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, or perhaps approval.

“What are you doing here?” she repeated. She didn't take her hand from the doorknob.

“I'm just here to talk.” He twisted his wrists so that his palms were facing up, empty. It was an empty gesture, considering his power; but she could appreciate it.

“Is this about your note?”

He nodded once. Misaki stayed where she was, but relaxed her grip on the door handle. If he was there to kill her, he would have done it already; he certainly wouldn't have taken his shoes off first. She'd never had a more considerate house breaker.

“So what exactly is this about?” she demanded. “What did you mean, the police have been compromised?”

“Do you know anything about who I work for?”

She frowned, debating how much to give away. But without knowing what he wanted, it was impossible to judge. “No,” she admitted at last. “I don't know a damn thing.”

“They're an international conglomerate known as the Syndicate. They have people in all the major governments and intelligence agencies, including yours.” His voice was eerily without inflection, almost robotic.

“A global conspiracy? That's a little far-fetched.” So was this entire situation. Was she seriously having a conversation with the Black Reaper, on her living room sofa?

He shrugged.

“Okay, so let's assume you're telling the truth.” Misaki let go of the door handle and took a few steps into the living room, where she stopped in front of the sofa - out of easy reach - and folded her arms. “Your Syndicate has people in the Japanese government - who are they, and what do they want?”

“I don't know.”

An edge of frustration began to squash her fear. Why the hell was he here, talking to her? _Was_ this some of joke? “You -” she began, but he interrupted.

“I've worked for them for the past ten years. I still have no idea who they are or what their purpose is. I never cared, before.”

“But you do now?” She eyed him, trying to figure out whether he was telling the truth or not. But unlike Li, his expression was impossible to read. “Why?”

He stared at the carpet between his feet, as if collecting his thoughts. “One of my team members listened in on a conversation that he shouldn't have,” he said after a long pause. “He didn't catch all of the details, but it sounded as if the Syndicate's higher-ups are preparing for another Heaven's Gate disaster, at Hell's Gate. It sounded as if they're planning it.”

Misaki's heart caught in her throat. An event like that, even if at a fraction of the magnitude, would be horrific. “You can't be serious.”

“He might have misunderstood. But...there are things - recent events - that make me think he was right.”

Her mind was racing. She wanted details, any scrap of information that he could provide. But first, she had to take a step back and ask the most important question. “So what are you doing here - why come to me? And what does this have to do with the police?”

“I'm pretty sure that one of the higher-ups has a high position in the police. I don't want what happened in South America to happen here. Neither does the rest of my team.”

Misaki raised an eyebrow. Altruism? From a contractor?

He continued, “But we're just tools of the Syndicate - we have no resources or power beyond what they give to us. And even then, I wouldn't know what to do with that information. But you might be able to do something. It would help us both - get rid of your mole in the police, and protect us from the Syndicate’s plan.”

Typical contractor logic, she thought. Saving Japan from a nationwide disaster was more than enough motivation for her to want to help; it didn't have to be so personal to convince her. Assuming that he wasn’t lying through his teeth.

“You say that the Syndicate has infiltrated the police. How do you know that I'm not one of them?”

He regarded her steadily; she refused to flinch. “I don't,” he admitted. “It's possible that you are. But I don't think it's likely.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “I can't really say. I just have to trust my instincts.”

Misaki drummed her fingers on her arm. Trust. _If_ he was telling the truth, then he was taking a massive risk just showing up here, letting her see his face, and telling her all of this. She couldn’t think of any reason why he would take that risk, unless he was telling the truth. The question was, just how far could she trust a contractor - especially one with the reputation of BK-201.

Well, if he could trust her thus far, she could at least reciprocate a tiny bit. Moving slowly so as not to accidentally spook him, she crossed the few feet to the sofa and sat down on the opposite end. He tensed the tiniest bit, but otherwise didn’t react.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s say that I believe you. What exactly is it that you propose to do?”

Despite her change in position, he didn’t move to face her; it was almost as if he was more comfortable addressing the floor.

“I can pass you information about our jobs. The Syndicate’s been very interested in Gate-related artifacts recently; and I’ve met a couple of high-ranking Pandora officials that you might be interested in.”

Misaki sat up a little straighter. She certainly _would_ be interested in knowing exactly what Pandora was up to. But… “When you say information about your jobs, do you mean before or after the fact?”

“After. If Section Four intercepts all of our missions, the Syndicate will know someone from my team tipped you off. This is about putting together the big picture.”

“I know how to run a confidential informant,” Misaki said testily. “But there has to be a give and take here - I can’t sit idly by waiting for you to feed me bits and pieces only to find out that there _is_ no big picture. No offense, but so far I have no reason to trust you.”

He nodded wearily. “That contractor you were chasing tonight - we, uh, accidentally let him escape. Into police custody. He can tell you a lot about a certain device that his employers are working on.”

Misaki eyed him as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. He met her gaze without flinching; was there worry in his eyes, or was she imagining it? She dialed Saitou’s number.

“Chief!” her subordinate answered, “I was just about to call you! Unit three-oh reported that they caught a man matching IE-388’s description. I checked it out, and it’s him; we’re heading to headquarters now.”

Misaki hoped that the surprise wasn’t showing on her face. “Good. I’m on my way; hold the interrogation until I get there.”

She snapped her phone shut. “You prepared that ahead of time? Before you knew what my answer would be?”

“We thought you might want proof that we’re willing to cooperate. And he deserved to be caught.”

The bitterness in his tone caught her off guard, but she let that latter statement go for now. “By _we_ you mean your team? Will I be able to meet them?”

“No,” he said, almost sharply. “I’m the only one you’ll be dealing with.”

Interesting, she mused. Was he trying to protect them by taking the bulk of the risk on himself? Out loud she asked, “So what is it that you want in return?”

“Let us leave the country unimpeded.”

Misaki blinked, surprised. “That’s it? No money, no official pardons, offers of new identities?”

He shrugged. “If the Syndicate catches wind of our betrayal, we’ll have to run. If they don’t, and you manage to stop whatever it is that they’re planning, then we’ll be out of a job. And we’ll still probably have to run; they have the resources to hunt us down. There’s not much that the police can do to protect us.”

“Alright,” Misaki said slowly. She still wasn’t entirely sure that this conversation was actually happening, that she wasn’t dreaming while asleep at her desk. “This is what I’ll agree to. From tonight on, you’ll be my confidential informant. I’ll make my own personal records of our meetings, but they’ll use coded language and be kept under lock and key. Unless absolutely necessary, I won’t tell anyone on my team that I even have a CI; if you’re right, and this is a long game that the Syndicate is playing, the best strategy will be to watch and wait while we collect information.”

He nodded his agreement, and she continued, “You and I will have regular meetings. I’ll leave you to arrange those, since you’ll have a better idea than me whether you’re being watched and when it’s safe to talk. You’ll give me _all_ the details of your jobs, _beforehand_ \- and I promise I won’t interfere unless it’s absolutely necessary, in which case I’ll warn you that I intend to make a move.”

His eyes narrowed slightly at that, but he didn’t protest it.

“In return for your information, I’ll refrain from arresting you in the field” - as if she’d ever come close, but still - “and when you or any of your team deem it necessary to leave Japan, I’ll make sure that you get out. This agreement will stand until I have the leadership of the Syndicate in police custody. Is this acceptable?”

To her relief, he didn’t answer right away, but instead took a few moments to consider. That was a good sign that he was really in earnest about this proposal, absurd though it seemed. At last, he nodded once. “Agreed.”

“Good. I won’t make you sign in papers for the sake of secrecy, but can we shake on it?” Willing her muscles to remain steady and not tremble, she held out her hand.

The Black Reaper looked at it as if _she_ was the one with the power to kill at a touch; then, slowly, he reached out his own hand and shook. His palm was surprisingly warm, his grip firm without being overbearing.

Misaki smiled in almost giddy relief. “Alright. It’ll be interesting working with you, Li.”

“Hei.”

“What?”

“Hei. That’s my name. I’m only Li in public.”

There was a note of disappointment in his voice, she thought. “Hei, then.”

He nodded again, then stood abruptly and headed towards the door and his shoes.

“One more thing,” Misaki called out. When he turned, she said sternly, “The next time you stop by here, you knock first.”

A sheepish expression flitted across his face before returning to blankness. “Yeah. Sorry. I just wanted to get your attention this time.”

Misaki watched him leave; it wasn’t until several minutes after the door had shut behind him that her heart rate finally returned to normal. She sighed and rested her chin in her hand, thinking. Li, the Black Reaper! Stranger still, BK-201, working with the police?

She’d never taken such a huge risk before. Either this would pay off in spades, or she’d just made the worst mistake of her life.


	2. The Dead Drop

Hei skulked in the dark, narrow passage between two rundown houses. There was only one street lamp on the block, its soft radius of light fading into the shadows well away from Hei’s waiting place. Even so, he pressed himself close against the nearest clapboard wall and out of sight of the quiet street. 

He wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. He’d donned his Li disguise to better blend in with the neighborhood’s inhabitants in case he was spotted lurking about, but that just made him feel more out of place. It was the Black Reaper who lurked, not Li.

After waiting for what felt like hours, his ears picked out the soft padding of careful footsteps amidst the general nighttime noises of the out-of-the-way neighborhood.

The footsteps came closer; Hei held his breath and listened carefully. Yes. He was  almost sure that it was her. Time to give her a heads up that he was already there.

He stepped out of the passage and onto the sidewalk - a moment too late. 

Kirihara stopped dead in her tracks in surprise at his sudden appearance. Her mouth opened to speak, and Hei - to his own silent horror - acted on reflex. He clamped a hand over her mouth at the same time that he grabbed her arm and pulled her with him back into the shadows.

“Don’t scream,” he whispered, already imagining the painful death that she was surely about to subject him to.

She elbowed him hard in the ribs, but he had already let her go. “I wasn’t going to  scream ,” she hissed in a low voice as she took an obvious step away from him and straightened her jacket. “I don’t scream when strange men leap out of alleys and grab me. I mean - you could have warned me you were there!”

“I, uh, I meant to,” Hei said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “I misjudged it. Sorry.”

“Well.” She made a show of brushing some invisible piece of dirt off her lapel. “Why are we meeting here, anyway? I would have preferred my car again; less chance of being seen or overheard that way.” There was no one else on the street, but she craned her neck to scan the area anyway.

“I don’t have a death wish.” Shit. Had he said that out loud?

“What?”

Yes. Yes he had. “Um, I just mean that you drive…very…aggressively. It’s hard to focus on what I’m saying when I’m terrified that we’re about to smash into the back of another car.”

She folded her arms; her expression wasn’t clear in the darkness, but Hei was pretty sure that she was scowling. “I’m a precision driver. I know what I’m doing; I’ve never even been in an accident.”

“What about the people driving behind you,” Hei muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said, you could give the Syndicate’s driving instructors lessons.” He actually meant that. Hei had learned basic driving skills before being shipped off to South America; when he’d returned, he’d been enrolled in the Syndicate’s advanced course for special ops agents. The course was taught by a former Formula One racer and an ex-stunt car driver. Kirihara would have been right at home with them. “But that’s not why we’re meeting here.”

He placed a careful hand at the small of her back and gently turned her to face one of the houses across the street. She didn’t flinch at his touch - she never had, the handful of times that he’d had occasion to make physical contact during their short time working together so far. It was a strangely refreshing experience. “Do you see that window, the one with the blue lamp?”

Kirihara nodded; reluctantly, Hei let his hand drop.

“The blue light identifies that house as a dead drop. The post of the iron gate has a loose cap; messages are deposited there.”

“Messages for who?”

“I don’t know. For jobs that don’t go through my handler. I leave a note explaining the outcome of the mission. I flip the sign that says  welcome to the side that says  keep out . And that’s it.”

“You don’t know who picks them up?”

“No. I don’t know if anyone else uses it as a drop either. It’s probable, though.”

Kirihara placed a hand on the corner of the house and leaned forward a little, as if those few inches would make the scene across the street any clearer. “Hm. You tell me about your jobs, so there’s no need for  me to read the notes. But if I set up some sort of watch here…nothing too conspicuous…shit, I can’t use an officer without making it an official mission. A webcam, maybe?” She waved a hand, apparently to herself. “Doesn’t matter now. However I do it, I could find out who’s picking them up.” She turned back to him. “I’ll make sure to run the description by you before making any moves - I wouldn’t want to accidentally nab one of your teammates. Since you still won’t tell me who they are.”

“That’s…yeah. Thanks,” Hei managed in his surprise at her consideration. She’d asked him about his team each time they’d met so far - but only once, before changing the subject after he refused. It was clear that even though she wanted to know, and hoped that he would change his mind, she wasn’t going to push him on it. He appreciated that concern more than he would have expected.

The door to the house upon which Kirihara was leaning slammed suddenly. She jumped back - right into Hei. He automatically reached up and gripped her upper arms to prevent them both from falling over.

“Sorry,” Kirihara muttered as they listened to the owner of the house trot down the stairs and into the street.

Hei let go of her, his heart inexplicably pounding. “It’s fine. We should, uh, probably go. Before someone else walks by and sees us.”

“Yeah. So, when’s our next meeting?”

He wanted to say  tomorrow night , but there was no reason for it. “Wednesday morning is our usual debrief. I’ll try and find you that afternoon or evening if I receive any orders.”

She nodded. “Alright. Can I give you a lift home?”

“Um…no. Thanks. I’ll walk.”

Her smile caught him completely off guard. “Your loss. See you on Wednesday.”

She left the alley between the houses and strode out into the street, footsteps fading into the distance. Hei leaned against the peeling siding, trying to figure out why his legs suddenly felt like jelly - and why that always seemed to happen when he was watching her walk away from him.


	3. The Lunch

Hei was early to the rendezvous.

He usually was. On a normal mission he preferred to be in position ahead of time, hidden in a key vantage point so that he could observe his contact (or target, as the case may be) as they arrived - size them up, make sure they’d come alone and weren’t planning on setting up any traps for him. Then he would make them wait well past the designated time before he revealed himself; their natural anxiety would build, working against them as they wondered whether they were merely being stood up - or set up.

This afternoon, however, not only was he at the park early, but he fully intended to be at the agreed upon bench - waiting out in the open - _before_ Chief Kirihara arrived. He felt instinctively that making her wait would not throw her off balance like it usually did to his contacts, but would simply irritate her. It was definitely in his best interest to not irritate her. And, although he wouldn’t dare admit it to anyone, a part of him actually wanted to do the impossible and go beyond simply remaining in her good books. He wanted to impress her.

What the hell was wrong with him.

Today he was early, but he wasn’t _that_ early. Hei trotted quickly down the broad steps leading from the busy road to the park entrance, two plastic bags of Chinese takeout in his hand. Just a normal waiter on a normal lunch break going to sit down and eat a normal lunch in the park.

A lot of people seemed to have the same idea in mind. There was a steady stream of students and businessmen heading down the stairs as well, boxed lunches and plastic bags dangling from their hands. One lone person was moving against the flow of traffic: an elderly woman with a silver orthopedic cane was making her slow but steady way up the steps, like a white-haired tortoise wading up a rushing creek.

She was about halfway up when Hei passed her. He stepped smartly to the side to give her room; and in that brief moment a couple of teenage boys pushed through the small gap between Hei and the woman, shouldering him hard.

His hand automatically went to his pocket to check that his wallet was still there - but as he did, he saw the old woman stagger. She attempted to plant her cane to steady herself but the shove had pushed her backwards and she missed her footing.

Hei acted on reflex. He dropped his bags, and reached out and caught her shoulders before she could topple over.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” he asked as the crowd of people continued streaming heedlessly by.

The old woman blinked up at him owlishly. “Yes, yes I think so - no thanks to those rude children. I could have broken my neck.” She cast a dirty look over her shoulder in the general direction the boys had disappeared in. “Bastards!”

“Uh,” Hei said, for lack of anything better to say. The woman seemed steady enough on her feet; Hei released her shoulders. “Do you need help up the stairs?”

“Bless you, no; I’m in no hurry. I’ll get there eventually.” She patted him on the arm. “Thank you so much for your help, young man. You must be a very dutiful grandson to your grandparents.”

An unexpected pain lanced through Hei’s heart. “Um, I guess so,” he lied. He hadn’t seen his grandparents in ten years; he had no idea whether they were even still alive.

And he’d never once heard _his_ grandmother swear.

The old woman gave him a cheery nod and resumed her plodding path up the steps. Hei watched her absently as the crowd continued to jostle by, fighting a mental battle with a surge of old memories and emotions that were threatening to resurface. Of course his grandparents were still alive; they weren’t that old.

At least, they hadn’t been that old ten years ago.

Lost in melancholy, something drew his gaze higher up the steps, beyond the woman making her slow but steady progress. Chief Kirihara was standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed and staring down at him like Judgment Day.

His pulse picked up just the tiniest bit, and suddenly he wished that he’d followed his usual strategy of lying in wait; he was feeling far too much like an exposed target. It was unnerving, her eying him like that, knowing exactly who he was. It also made it more difficult to figure out who to be. He couldn’t act like the Black Reaper in public, but _Li_ didn’t quite work for this situation either. He’d tried that at their first daylight meeting a week ago, and her impatience with the over-friendly persona had been clear.

He stayed where he was, watching as Kirihara stepped lightly down the stairway to join him.

“Did I really just see the Black Reaper helping a little old lady cross the street?” she asked in a low voice.

Hei blinked at her. Something was different about her usual stern expression. Was she - was she trying to a hide a _smile_? “Um,” he said, as usual failing to settle on either the Reaper or Li when in her presence and ending up with a confused mix of both. “She wasn’t crossing the street, just…going up the stairs.”

Kirihara’s smile broke through like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. “That’s what I thought. Come on; let’s go sit and talk.”

She continued down the stairs without waiting to see if he was following. Hei stood frozen for a moment; then he stooped to pick up the bags that he’d dropped and trotted after her.

They made their way down the park’s path to the designated bench in silence, but it was a friendly silence. Hei focused his mental energy on _not_ trying to evaluate every movement of her shoulders, every flicker of her eyes, the slight upward curve of her mouth, and simply enjoy being present. It was surprisingly nice.

Kirihara sat down in the center of the bench, leaving Hei no choice but to settle in between her and the wrought iron arm. It made sense from the point of view of their cover - two friends meeting for a casual lunch - but didn’t leave much actual space between them. His palms were sweating slightly as he pulled the two styrofoam containers out of the plastic bags.

It was a warm day.

She was watching him again. He cleared his throat. ”Are you hungry?”

“I haven’t had lunch yet,” she said after a long moment.

Hei passed over one of the containers. “Fried rice with shrimp.”

“Ooh, I love fried rice! Thanks.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up at her enthusiasm, and he handed her a pair of chopsticks with relief. She opened the container, and, after pushing a couple of peas off the top of the huge mound of rice, scooped up a heaping amount.

“Mm,” she said around the mouthful of rice, “This is good. Do you get free food all the time at the restaurant?”

Hei shrugged and opened his own container of fried rice and pork. “There’s usually at least a couple of orders that someone’s sent back; I can take those. And if there aren’t any, the cook will make me something.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Mr. Komori seems to think that since I eat so much at one time, lunch is the _only_ time I eat. He’s worried that I’ll starve if I don’t get at least three meals’ worth of food from him.”

Kirihara snorted a laugh. “You’re like a stray cat.”

“What?”

“A cat who’s adopted several families in the same neighborhood - they all feed him thinking that he won’t get any food otherwise.”

Hei thought of Mao and the girl at the Home Run House who set food out for him every day, despite the fact that Huang provided him with all the canned salmon he could eat. “I guess.”

Kirihara chewed another mouthful. “You know, in that getup you almost look like a real waiter.”

Something in his stomach soured at her words. “I _am_ a real waiter.”

“You’re acting like one now, but we both know what your real job is.” Before he could say anything to defend himself, she continued, “Speaking of which - your star showed an awful lot of activity last night, but we didn’t find any bodies. Care to explain what you were up to?”

Straight to business then. He tried not to let his disappointment show as he launched into an explanation of the job. Kirihara asked endless questions, most of them concerning details that Hei either had no way of knowing (why _was_ the Syndicate interested in a wholesale retailer of brown rice flour) or simply hadn’t thought to pay attention to (were there health and safety inspection certificates on display). He was quickly learning that the information needed to commit a crime wasn’t quite the same as what was required to solve one. Next time, he resolved, he would keep that in mind.

Kirihara was thinking hard, her brow furrowed in that way she had. At last she sighed. “I don’t know. Given what you’ve told me so far, collecting Gate-related artifacts seems to be a top priority for more than just your team; but I can’t see any connection here.” She looked down at her container; after poking the last three peas towards the little pile she’d built in the corner, she scooped up the last of the rice and shoved it thoughtfully into her mouth. Hei had never seen anyone besides himself polish off that much food so quickly; he was impressed in spite of himself.

“I was able to get a few photos of a man picking up something from your dead drop,” she continued. “No hits on it yet; he’s definitely not someone with the police, unfortunately - that’s who I really want. But I was thinking: what if we were to plant a false message? Something that would spook the moles in the police, stir them up, get them to reveal themselves somehow?”

Hei shrugged. “I can write it out in the right code. I don’t know what message that would be, though.”

“Hm, me either. I have to think about it some more.” She tapped her chopsticks absently on the edge of the container, studying him thoughtfully. Or at least, gazing in his direction while she thought about the problem. “We -” she began, but the buzzing of her phone cut her off. She pulled it out of her pocket and flipped it open to look at the screen. “Damn, I have to go. Well, see if you can come up with anything, and we’ll reconvene in the next day or two.”

“Sure.”

Kirihara stood up, shouldering her purse. “Sorry for giving you a hard time about the waiter thing - that uniform just looks so natural on you, it made me a little sad for a moment.” She flashed him a sudden smile. “You know, I’d almost like to see you in a real suit one day.” Then she turned abruptly; he couldn’t read her expression. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Um, sure.”

Hei watched her stride away down the path, towards the park entrance and the stairs. He made a mental note to try and schedule their next rendezvous for another lunch break - and to be sure to ask Mr. Komori for a dish without peas.

He definitely _wasn_ _’t_ blushing. It was just a hot day.


	4. The Pool

The pool area was empty when Hei pushed through the door from the men’s changing room. At least, he was pretty sure it was empty. A thin mist hung just above the surface of the heated water - there had been a cold snap that week, and this wing must not have been very well-insulated, despite being completely indoors.

He wandered down the side, the decking damp on his bare feet. There was no sound of splashing from early morning swimmers; only the low hum of the pump somewhere in the distance.

The muggy atmosphere reminded him of those awful summers in central Brazil. The Syndicate had sent him and his sister to die in that war-torn hellhole; they’d kill him now if they knew he was here. They’d kill his whole team. His life - all their lives - rested in Kirihara’s hands. A cop’s hands - a fact which Huang reminded him of on a near-daily basis. If he was mistaken about her…

Hei gave himself a mental shake. There was no room for those kinds of thoughts, not now. Kirihara was a contact just like any of his other contacts. He had to trust her to the extent necessary to accomplish their goal, but he needed to remain on his guard. That was the only way to survive. Keeping up regular interactions in addition to exchanging information was part of the process.

It didn’t look like she was here yet, though. What if she wasn’t coming at all? Yin had told him that she swam on _most_ mornings; not every morning. For a moment he considered turning around and leaving - there was no point in staying if she wasn’t here, and if anyone from the Syndicate happened to see him hanging around the gym that Section Four’s chief frequented, he’d be hard pressed to come up with an explanation.

But it was early still; before six. She might still show. That thought alone was enough to send a little skip through his heartbeat and solidified his decision.

Hei completed his circuit of the empty pool. It was an Olympic-sized pool, split into regular lanes by red and white floating dividers. He paused at the edge of the center lane and eyed the water dubiously. It had been a few years since he’d done any regular swimming, and he had no desire to pick it up again. If he _had_ to swim, he preferred the open ocean. But, his cover was that he was here to do laps. So, laps he would do. At least there was no area deeper than five feet here.

He pulled his goggles down over his eyes and adjusted his swim suit self-consciously, even though there was no one here to see him. Taking a deep breath, he dove into the lane.

At least, he’d meant to dive; he’d angled too shallowly and instead he hit stomach-first, sending up a huge splash of water. Coughing, skin stinging, Hei surfaced. His eyes were burning - where had his goggles gone? He coughed out another lungful of water and spotted them floating a couple feet away. Quickly he snatched them up and scanned the pool again. It would be just his luck if Kirihara had chosen that moment to arrive and see him make a total fool of himself. She would laugh, and…

The pool area was still empty. Hei squinted into the far corners of the room where the mist was a bit heavier; no one was there. Inexplicably disappointed, he replaced the goggles over his eyes, tightened the strap to keep them on this time, and struck out down the lane.

It only took one laborious trip across the pool to remind him how much he truly hated laps. This was stupid; there were other things he could do while waiting for Kirihara besides swim.

Resting his arms on the side of the pool, he gazed at the long set of shelves that was arranged along the wall. There were life vests, kickboards, some foam noodles…he scanned the items until he saw a set of purple cuffs that looked fairly dense. Hei hoisted himself out of the water and, dripping, padded over to the shelf. He lifted one of the cuffs; it was about five pounds. An ankle weight, probably. Two should work.

Instead of diving in this time, Hei simply sat at the edge of the deck and slipped into the water, holding the weights against his stomach. It had been a long time since he’d tried this - nearly as long as the time since he’d last swum laps - but he still did a lot of deep breathing during meditation sessions. The concept was the same. Ignoring the panic was the key.

Standing chest-deep in the water, Hei closed his eyes and inhaled slowly through his mouth, filling his lungs, before exhaling at an even slower rate. After the second breath cycle, he could feel his heart rate starting to drop and his muscles relaxing. He took one last deep breath, pushing his ribs out to the limit of their expansion, then let the weights pull him down.

Once he felt his rear settle onto the slippery tiled pool bottom, he crossed his legs and cradled the weights in his lap. Then he opened his eyes.

A couple of tiny bubbles escaped from his nose and floated up; he watched them detachedly. It was much more peaceful below the surface. The overhead lights filtered softly through the water; the hum of the pool’s pump was quiet white noise in the distant background.

It took about thirty seconds for his lungs to start to burn, but he reminded himself that he’d felt this sensation before; he could outlast it. Instead of focusing on the sensation, he stared down the black stripe of his lane as it extended away, narrowing into the far distance. Forty seconds passed, then a minute. The fire in his chest faded as his mind accepted that he was, in fact, not yet dead.

His previous record had been three minutes, twenty seconds. He doubted he could manage that today - it would be stupid to try - but he might be able to get to two. His brain mentally ticked off one minute ten seconds. Twenty…

A sudden splash from the far end of his lane snapped his attention back to the pool. A woman in a blue swim cap and black suit emerged from a cloud of bubbles, propelling forward with a strong and sure stroke. Directly towards him. With a jolt, Hei realized that she was looking down instead of ahead; she didn’t see him.

Now the panic crept into his bloodstream, constricting his lungs. She was halfway across the pool already; should he move? One minute, thirty seconds. He needed air, he needed to surface before -

The woman was already on top of him. She ducked her head to start a flip turn - and stared down directly into his face.

Falling upside-down while underwater should not have been possible, but that was exactly what she did, her mouth opening in a surprised exhalation as she crashed into the wall right on top of him.

Hei dropped his weights and pushed up hard, his lungs burning. They surfaced together in a confused tangle, choking and gasping for air.

“Hei? What are you _doing_ here?” Kirihara coughed. She pushed her goggles onto her forehead and wiped the water out of her eyes.

Even a mere two feet away, Hei almost didn’t recognize her. Her long hair was tucked up under the tight swim cap, accentuating her long, graceful neck. Her eyes, normally hidden behind thick lenses, were a startlingly warm brown.

“Um,” Hei spluttered, attempting to refocus and get his breath back at the same time. “Waiting for you.”

“At the bottom of the pool?” she asked in disbelief.

“I was practicing some freediving exercises. You’re late; I got bored.”

Kirihara drifted back a bit to rest her arms on the floating lane divider. “What do you mean, late? How do you know when I usually get here?”

Her tone was more curious than suspicious, Hei noted with relief. “I asked Yin where I could find you; she told me that you’re usually here around five-thirty,” he said, pulling off his own goggles and brushing a wide chunk of hair out of his eyes.

“Yin?”

Shit - he shouldn’t have said that. “The doll on my team,” he said shortly.

Kirihara’s eyes widened slightly. “You have your doll keeping an eye on me?”

“No. But she had a vote in our decision to reach out to you too; she’s probably just worried like the rest of us.”

“Worried? You’re still afraid you can’t trust me.”

The hurt in her voice was clear; shit, he hadn’t meant to imply that at all. “What we’re doing is a risk regardless,” he said with a heavy sigh. “None of us can afford to get complacent where the Syndicate is involved.” He couldn’t help but glance around the still-empty room; even just saying the name of his employers aloud was enough to send a chill through his blood. If they caught the two of them talking…

When he turned back to Kirihara, her mouth was twisting into a slight smile.

“What?” he asked.

She bit her lip. “Nothing. Well, let’s get to business.”

Hei eyed her; she was clearly holding something back. “What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” She drew a circle around her eye with a fingertip. “I think your goggles were a little too tight.”

“What?” Hei reached up and felt a clear indentation beside his eye where the rubber seal of his goggles had rested. Fantastic. The way she was smiling, though, sent a flush of heat through his blood that had nothing to do with embarrassment. “It’s been a while since I’ve done much swimming,” he said defensively.

“Alright,” Kirihara said, still smiling. “What did you want to see me about?”

Shit. “Nothing in particular. I mean, it’s been a week since we last talked, so I, uh, just wanted to check in.”

“Check in?” She paused in thought, idly letting one foot drift up towards the surface of the water, then the other, as she leaned into the lane divider. “I did get another photo off the webcam. This man has been passing by the dead drop frequently; he never stops, never even looks towards that house, but something about it has my instincts buzzing. I haven’t a chance to run it through the system yet though.”

“Do you have the photo now?” Hei asked. He doubted that anyone simply walking by the house must automatically have a connection to the Syndicate; but he couldn’t discount Kirihara’s instincts either.

“Yeah; it’s on my phone. Come on.”

Without waiting for answer, she pulled her goggles back down and struck out down the lane to the opposite end of the pool where a row of lounge chairs lined the wall. Unable to suppress a grimace, Hei followed with a slow, awkward breast stroke.

He swam the last couple of yards underwater. Kirihara was already perched on the edge of the deck, her legs dangling in the water, ankles crossed. Her toenails were painted a pale, feminine pink, he noted with surprise; though why that would be surprising was beyond him.

She raised one eyebrow when he surface. “Is that really your breast stroke?”

”Yes, Hei said defensively. He stayed in the water, crossing his arms on the deck next to her. She must have left her phone sitting on one of the lounge chairs when she began her swim, because she held it in her hand now.

“How did you learn to swim - did someone just throw you into the deep end and hope for the best?”

Her tone was teasing, but Hei answered honestly. “Yes.”

Kirihara blinked. “What, really?”

“I didn’t learn until I was twelve,” Hei admitted. He and Xing had splashed around in the lake up by their country house, but even in the summer it was too cold for any actual swimming. “When I joined the Syndicate, they put me through lessons; but since I trained with my sister the instructor would never get in the water with us; I never really got the hang of the proper strokes.” He shrugged awkwardly.

“Your sister?”

Hei turned his face away. What in the hell had prompted him to mention her? “She had the same power as me,” he said shortly. “Before I was a contractor. Water is a good conductor of electricity.”

He fully expected Kirihara to withdraw her legs, maybe even scoot a little further away from him and the water, at the reminder of how dangerous his ability was. However, she didn’t move. Instead she asked, “And they just threw you into the pool and told you to swim?”

Hei felt a fresh surge of appreciation for her willingness to not pursue a topic that he was clearly uncomfortable with; she never pressed him for information on his teammates, either. Maybe that was what made it so easy to talk to her.

“Yeah,” he said, turning back to her and resting his chin on his folded arms. “The instructor fastened weight belts around our waists and then without warning pushed us off the edge. We sank straight to the bottom. Fifteen feet.”

“What did you do?” Kirihara asked, aghast.

A bead of water dripped from the edge of her swim cap and onto her neck; Hei watched it trace a long, languorous path towards her collarbone. If he kept staring at that bead, he could push aside the memories of the crushing pain in his ears and sinuses, the burn in his lungs as his air ran out, the certainty that he was going to die. The panic had nearly overwhelmed him; it was only the sight of Bai, struggling calmly with the release on her weight belt, that had allowed him to focus.

“I undid the catch on her belt,” Hei said, “then did mine and followed her to the surface. Getting back to the edge of the pool was easy after that.”

“That's awful though,” Misaki said softly. The compassion in her eyes startled him. He met her gaze. A droplet of water was poised on the edge of her eyelash. He stared, captivated. Then she reached up and absently brushed it away. Hei blinked and swallowed hard.

“It’s all about controlling your adrenaline,” he said, collecting himself. “and not letting the panic take over. That’s an invaluable skill.”

“Still, it must have been hard for you to get back into the water after that.”

He shrugged again. “Do you have that photo?”

“What? Oh, right.” She picked up her phone and fiddled with it for a moment. Then she turned the screen to his view.

Hei squinted at the image on the screen, but he didn’t need to. He recognized that profile right away. “That’s our liaison with the Syndicate,” he told her, his blood running cold as he remembered the way the man had calmly watched the contractor Shihoko kill herself. “I don’t know his name.”

There was a light in Misaki’s eyes now. “If he’s your connection to the higher-ups, that makes him the best lead we’ve had yet.”

Shit. He should have pretended to not know the man. “Don’t let him catch you anywhere near that street. You should take down the webcam - no, send someone else to do it. If you -”

“Alright,” Misaki cut in irritably. “He’s dangerous; I’ll be careful.”

They lapsed into silence. Hei had nothing more to tell her except for more warnings, which he knew would only irritate her. For her part, he was sure that she was already planning a strategy to catch this guy.

Misaki snapped her phone shut and, turning, tossed it onto one of the lounge chairs behind her. Hei tried not to notice how close the smooth skin of her thigh was to his hand. Why had he thought that meeting her at the pool was in any way a good idea? Why had he had to come up with such a flimsy excuse just to talk to her again?

“Can I ask you something?” she said abruptly.

“Um, sure,” he said, desperately hoping that she hadn’t caught him staring.

“You said you were practicing freediving techniques, but you completely suck at swimming - what were you really doing?”

“That _is_ what I was doing. I’m trained in advanced scuba and I’ve free-dived down to one hundred feet. I like _that_ stuff; I just can’t swim laps.”

“Really?” She pursed her lips. “I’ve done some scuba, but I’ve always wanted to learn freediving. It looks difficult though.”

“It’s not; I can show you some easy breathing exercises to get started.” Mentally Hei kicked himself. He should _not_ be volunteering to interact with a police officer more than absolutely necessary. But the idea of spending time with her, talking about something that didn’t involve the Syndicate, was too tempting to pass up. And that was a problem.

Misaki smiled. “Maybe once this whole thing with the Syndicate is over, we can work on that.”

His heart sank. “I’ll have to leave Japan once you move on the Syndicate.”

“Well,” she said, her smile tightening a bit, “that’s just as well. You’d probably only be able to teach me how to lurk at the bottom of swimming pools.”

“I wasn’t lurking,” Hei protested. “You must be completely blind not have seen me - how do you manage to not run into the wall on every lap?”

Misaki mouth dropped open. “At least I don’t swim like a pregnant hippopotamus.”

Maybe it was the good-natured name-calling, bringing him back to the days of schoolyard taunts and summer games; Hei was never sure. But without thinking, he grabbed her elbow and yanked her forward into the water. She had just enough time to let out a startled gasp before she hit the surface with a splash.

“Hey!” she spluttered, wiping the water from her eyes.

Hei realized with a shock what he’d just done. Before he could apologize however, Misaki swept a wave of water right into his face. He blinked, dripping, as she grinned at him.

“You think you have the advantage over me in a pool?” she taunted, a determined gleam in her eye.

“You -” he began. Then the harsh jangling of a cell phone cut him off. They both turned to look at the lounge chair.

“Oh,” Misaki said. “Um, I think I have to go.”

“Right.” Hei tried not to watch as she pulled herself gracefully over the edge of the pool and padded lightly to her phone. She kept her back to him as she answered.

Feeling suddenly disconcerted, he replaced his goggles over his eyes and began a slow freestyle stroke down the lane. When he reached the weights that he’d left at the other end, he glanced back just in time to see Misaki hurriedly turn away, as if she’d been watching him. She scooped up her towel and left the pool.

Hei closed his eyes and started up his breathing exercises once again.

It was days later when it would occur to him to wonder just when he’d begun thinking of her as _Misaki_ rather than _Chief Kirihara_ in his head; he realized then that he was in much deeper trouble than he’d first thought.


End file.
